The Point: Get to It
by Wingless Cherub
Summary: Created in a government lab, they know not what they are, where they belong. But they'll stick together until they figure it out. And maybe meet some new friends and enemies along the way. OC warning!
1. Chapter 1

**The Point  
**_**Get to It  
**__Chapter One_

The city was filled with sounds. Cars stuck in traffic and screaming taxi drivers that all spoke different languages; hawkers hawking; business men and women talking loudly on mobile phones, trying to be heard over one another.

"I'm huuuuuuungy," said a teenage girl as she walked along the sidewalk between two young men approximately her own age. She was dark-haired with a flat face, her skin lightly tanned and smooth. Wearing reflective black sunglasses made it impossible to tell the color of her eyes or the shape. A hand in need of a manicure rested over the flat stomach shown between the gap of her tied-back sunshine yellow shirt and low-rising dark blue jeans. The young men dressed just as casually. They walked comfortably, their lazy pace suggesting they really had nowhere to go. Passing a hawker's cart selling hot dogs, the girl threw it a longing look from behind her sunglasses.

"Use your r's," snapped a darkly brown-haired young man that bore a striking resemblance to the girl. They were exactly the same height, which was average for their late teen years, and his face was just as flat. His skin was a hint paler and a wide slicing scar cut up through his right eyebrow, down through the right eye that was covered by reflective black sunglasses, and hooked over the Asian-like nose mid-cheek to end beside the boy's left ear. He wore a maroon tee shirt that seemed too small for him and dark denim pants that looked too big, but there was no tuft of boxers or underwear, which suggested he wore none.

"I'm huuuuuuung_ry_," said the girl, throwing the boy a look that made her own Asian-like nose scrunch up.

"Well, eat your words. You never seem to shut up, so that should hold you over."

"That's harsh, man," said a boy whose white-blond hair was in newly dreaded dreadlocks grown past his ears. As he wore no shades, his big and oval eyes were revealed to the world. Those eyes were mostly blue, but with rings of green, and nearest the pupil there might have been a hint of red, but that was only if you looked closely and didn't mistake it for brown. He was taller than either brunette, which made him look older. His skin was evenly tanned a lightly beige hue and his face sharp-boned. In either ear were at least three piercings each, as well as a silver barbell in his full and pale lower lip and a sapphire stud in the skin over his right nostril. He was dressed in black slacks and a collared dark blue dress shirt that buttoned up the front. "Your sis has a point, anyway," he continued, sliding a glance at the shorter boy. "We haven't eaten in three days…"

"We don't _need_ to eat," snapped the brunette, sending his fair-haired friend his sharpest look.

"You and me don't, but Isis does. She's a halfie, remember? You're twins, but she didn't get as many extra chromosomes as you, Oz."

From just over the lenses of the sunglasses, Oz looked at the blond boy, revealing slits of almond-shaped _red eyes_. "Theo," he started, a charge of anger in his voice. Unbeknownst to the trio, black thunderheads began to gather overhead. "Do you want to die a horrible death?"

Theo smiled. "Not particularly," he said.

"Then _shut up_."

Isis turned her head away from the boys, looking in the windows of shops they passed. "Can't we—" But she didn't get further than those two words.

"No," snapped Oz.

She sighed loudly. Then she stopped walking, staring fixedly at the window of a store that was closed and the armored blinds within drawn. Then she looked up at the sky. "Osiris," she whispered. "Theseus… _Look up_." The young men stopped moving and glanced over their shoulders, then one looked down and the other looked up. Looking at the sidewalk, Theseus saw the shadows of the thunderheads. Looking up, Osiris saw the black clouds. "_We've got to get these people to shelter_."

"There's too many," replied Osiris, murmuring. By the laws of human nature, standing ten feet apart and whispering, the brunette boy and girl shouldn't have been able to hear one another. But, apparently, these laws didn't apply to them. People in business suits flooded around them, separating the twins further, talking loudly on mobile phones; proving there was definitely something not quite human about these three if they were really able to hear one another over this noise. "Theo, can't you—"

"We didn't even sense it," murmured Theseus. "This isn't a natural storm. All I could do is stave off the rain anyway—but I don't think it's rain we need to be worrying about."

"Isis?"

The girl was already shaking her head. "It's not an electrical storm," she said, volume barely above a breath. "But I can tell you what's up there, and it ain't thunderclouds."

Comprehension dawned on Theseus first. "Insects," he whispered. "Hundreds of millions of _billions_ of insects! Shit!" He looked at the shorter brunette boy for guidance. "How are we gonna defend the area against _bugs_ without revealing ourselves? I can't summon enough rain without drowning the human population, and if I create a blizzard in the middle of July…"

Osiris and Isis hadn't taken their eyes from the sky. So as the hundreds of millions of billions of insects began to descend, they said together, "Time's up." Then Osiris shot his blond friend a quick and angry look. Once they had eye-contact, he said without moving his lips, "_Call up a downpour. There's going to be fire and we'll need the water, and Isis can use it as a conductor. Then go find the mutant controlling this and take care of him._"

Expression worried, Theseus raised his face and palms above and closed his eyes. He felt a tremor run through his body like a gust of wind from within, and he concentrated on pushing that personal wind out- and upward. Behind his closed eyes he imagined waves of turquoise water churning, foaming, tossing and turning. Keeping track of the personal wind's progress, he waited until he felt it breeze across a substance he knew instinctively as water, and he called the draft back. Just as the first dozen people began screaming, a raindrop kissed Theseus's upturned nose. And suddenly he was soaked as the previously blue sky-gone-gray opened up and released loads of water. He opened his eyes and felt chilled at the site.

It was as though the lower level of hell had ascended to earth.

People running, screaming, using their briefcases as shields. Black patches covered their faces, their arms, anywhere there was bare skin, and mounds of gray matter that were moths covered and took care of cloth. Most of the insects were impervious to the water, no matter how much. Worse, the rain seemed only to give these bugs new vigor. Cars had stopped on the road and the people within watched in horror as clouds of black covered their windows, or they screeched and jumped out of their cars scratching at their fronts and backs and faces as insects attacked through the air vents. A woman across the street in a black business-style dress collapsed. Theseus had felt useless before, but never like this, never to this degree. He had started across the street before he heard Osiris's voice like thunder rumbling in his head.

"_You heard me! You're of no use here! Let Isis and I hold down things here. You find the mutant!_"

Fisting his hands in frustration, but resolved to obey, Theseus circled about. He hated turning his back on the injured woman. Back on the reverse sidewalk, Theseus locked gazes with Isis. She had removed her sunglasses, revealing almond-shaped eyes so red and large there was no mistaking them for any shade of brown. "_I got it_," he heard her voice like a flute in his head. "_Just go. Quick. You can do it, Theseus. Go save the day like you always do._"

He closed his eyes then, concentrating. The private wind stirred within him again, and he pushed it out, but instead of up he forced it in a sonic boom surrounding him. _Close_, he thought. _He has to be close._ The breeze surged down streets and through walls of buildings, disturbing nothing in its path. Images came to Theseus's mind's eye. Cubed offices where heads bobbed frequently; families preparing dinner in their small apartment kitchens; hundreds of people in the streets running and screaming, trying to escape the insects. Though it took only an instant to accomplish, it felt like an eternity to the blond boy with the big heart. Finally, as the wind picked its way through the suburban border, a solid picture built in Theseus's mind. A darkened bedroom with a small curtained window, where a girl sat looking out. _A girl_, thought Theseus. _A little girl. She can't be older than nine._ With a young face, a young body, dressed in light jeans and a pink tee shirt, Theseus was sure of it. Her expression was bored in the picture built in his mind, but her eyes were sharp and alert, glittering with malicious glee.

Theseus pinpointed the location in his mind, and just as Isis looked away from her friend he was already gone from sight.

-

**A/N:** **CLIFFHANGER! Sort of. I know it's short but the other chapters will be longer. Anyway, this is my first fanfic, so please be kind. OH! And if it's not too much to ask, could someone please give me the names of all the Xavier kids and a list of their powers? I seem to be blanking out on at least half of them; there's Scott and Jean and Rogue and Kurt and Kitty… that's as far as I ever seem to get. And McCoy's real name _(oh my god, is his code name even Wildebeast?)_—all of a sudden I just couldn't think of it. Then is Magneto, Mystique, Pietro, Lance, The Blob and Todd, Wanda, sometimes Tabitha for the brotherhood… Remy who's allover the place...(_What's wrong with my head? My memory is going! Help me!)_**

_Disclaimer: I own all Original Characters and this plot. My words are my own. _Marvel Comics _owns the rest._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Point  
**_**Get to It  
**__Chapter Two_

Theseus materialized in front of a two-floor white suburban home with pink shutters and doorframes. It looked like something bought out of a _Martha Stuart Homes_ magazine, if there was such a thing. The green lawn was carefully manicured and bursting from under and around the wraparound porch were huge rhododendron bushes and azaleas, mixed with rose bushes and carnations, hyacinths and daisies, and other flowers Theseus knew only vaguely. In the gray stone-paneled driveway, parked before the garage that was half the size of the house, was a sleek black SUV. The garage was the same color as the house and outlined in pink. Both the roofs of the garage and the house were tan-shingled. Leading from the driveway to the porch was a walk made of flat and round stones big enough for Ronald McDonald to step on.

Here it wasn't raining. _But_, Theseus mused, _I can change that_.

He strode forward purposefully, studying the shuttered windows for any sign of a little girl's malicious face. Just as he reached the front porch the glass-screened front door opened. Theseus stopped and stared for _there she was_.

How unexpected.

Her mousy brown hair pulled into pigtails, her round face watching him jadedly. She had brown eyes, largely round but lowered to half-mast in her boredom. But something was wrong with this picture compared to the one built up in Theseus's head. It took him a second to realize that it was the clothes: this little girl wore a dress. A smock, really, faded pink cotton with ruffles in the skirt that hardly fell to her thin knees. On her feet were pink socks with frilly hems pulled up to mid-calve.

"You're here for my sister, aren't you?" the girl asked Theseus, peering at him obliquely.

Theseus smiled his most gentle smile. "S'pose I am," he drawled with an accent that wasn't his. "Is she the one controlling the bugs?"

The girl smiled at him as she nodded. "Yes," she said. "She can do that. I knew you'd be coming for her."

"Did you?" Theseus hid his surprise. "Does that mean…?"

"I see things before they happen," replied the girl. "Would you like to come in? I already know you're not gonna hurt us. I'll introduce you to Jan and Mark, then to Ruby." Already the girl was turning and heading inside, fully expecting Theseus to follow. Theseus didn't disappoint her. Before one could blink he had materialized directly behind the young mutant.

"Ruby must be your sister then. I don't believe I caught your name, though?"

"Gem Riley."

They walked in silence through the first floor, down a corridor and into what appeared to be a kitchen. All the while Theseus was conscious of the time passing, the people in the city being hurt. It had only been two minutes since he left, at most, but two minutes worried him as had ten then twenty then thirty seconds, and so on. A blond woman and brown-haired man sat at a serving counter in the kitchen, which was like an island drifting in the middle of the hardwood floors. Dark circles made their eyes seem sunken into their skulls. Their hair was greasy and their business-style clothes wrinkled. When they looked at Theseus following the small girl into the area, he immediately comprehended how exhausted and afraid these people were. A stench wafted off of these adults that Theseus was sure only he could sense; they smelt like death.

"Jan, Mark," began the little girl, "this is Theseus. He's come to collect Ruby."

Theseus's gaze flickered. He hadn't actually planned that far. "Good to meet you," he told the parents. They nodded to him listlessly. This decided Theseus—they weren't alive enough any longer to be worth a second glance. "Gem, I don't mean to be rude, but could you show me to Ruby? I'm kinda in a hurry."

Gem glanced over her shoulder at Theseus. Her dark eyes danced with cruelty. "Aren't you going to explain yourself to my mother and father? Why you're going to take their dear Ruby away forever?"

"Gem," whispered a woman's voice. Theseus looked over at Jan to see her looking pleadingly at her daughter. "Please, just show your guest—"

"Quiet," snapped Gem. Without looking at the adults, she turned on her heel and swept past Theseus. He nodded again to the parents, mainly to the woman that tried to smile but grimaced instead. Quickly he turned and left them, half-running to get away from the fatalistic stench and their haunting eyes. Down the hall again, up some carpeted stairs, and then he was behind Gem as she stood before a bedroom door labeled in Crayola-colored signs: _STAY OUT! RUBY'S ROOM. KEEP YOUR DISTANCE!_ Rubber insects covered any space not plastered over in construction-paper signs. Ignoring the sign with practiced ease, Gem knocked. "Ruby?"

"Go away! I'm busy!" screeched a voice.

"Ruby, be polite. Somebody's here to see you. Remember the boy I told you about?"

A moment of silence, and then the bedroom door opened. Theseus was nearly knocked over by the foul smell that he somehow failed to notice emitting from the place before. It was not just the parents; it was Ruby as well. She was Gem's mirrored image, dressed in the jeans and pink tee shirt Theseus's had seen in the picture of his mind. Her hair was loose, unlike the pigtails Gem's mousy hair was pulled into. The room behind her was pitch-black, but for a sliver of sunlight drawn on the white carpet within; Ruby had drawn the curtains, or perhaps the shutters. Theseus didn't know exactly where the smell was coming from, except that it must originate in there.

She studied Theseus's with appraising eyes, as if he was furniture she was considering was worth his labeled price. "You must be Theseus," she said after a moment.

Crouching to be eye-level with her, Theseus glowered. His fake accent evaporated. "You know my name," he spoke to her very softly. His expression was menacing and once Ruby comprehended it she stepped back, glancing suspiciously at her twin sister. If Theseus noticed he pretended not to. "But do you know what I am?" he snarled. "What I'm capable of?"

Confidence fading, Ruby shook her head. Her feet hesitated on the carpet as if contemplating backing away and slamming the door.

Like lightning, Theseus's arm shot out and he caught the collar of her pink tee shirt. He brought the girl's face very close to his own. Their eyes met and Ruby's were afraid. "I don't like threatening you," he said in that softly menacing way. "I don't want to hurt you. But you're controlling those insects in the city that are hurting people, adults and children alike. And that's enough to make me hurt you very badly if you don't cut it out this instant."

Without warning, Ruby let out a scream that seemed to shake the neighborhood. An instant later something attacked Theseus from all sides: _bugs_. Termites, moths, flies, mosquitoes, wasps and yellow-jackets, even bumblebees and butterflies. Those that could sting Theseus did so, and those that could only bite did so, while the butterflies and bumblebees could do no more than get tangled in his dreadlocks. Theseus ignored them. At the same time, he noticed Gem standing against the wall beside the bedroom and watching with a twist to her pink lips. The insects left her alone entirely. He returned his attention to the struggling child in his grasp. The insects didn't touch Ruby either. For the first time, he wondered if he had the right girl. Was Gem actually the one manipulating the bugs? Was she manipulating Theseus as well? Manipulating, perhaps, even her own twin sister? This could be a very thought-out framing. Perhaps one of them _could_ see the future and had warned the controller—

Theseus shoved his doubts away, stood, still holding a screaming Ruby, and made a grab for Gem. Her expression ever so cheeky, she dodged his hand easily. She began dancing around him as he made grab after grab.

As a last resort, Theseus grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back. It killed him to do it. _They're only children_, he thought miserably. Yet his expression stayed cold as stone. Only then did Gem's screams join her sister's, as though she really hadn't planned on Theseus managing to get a good hold.

Jan and Mark came running. Closing his eyes, Theseus pictured the city with its shrieking and buzzing inhabitants. He imagined Osiris and Isis. Then he pinpointed the location and cloaked himself, the two girls, in his own personal wind.

Jan and Mark ran into the empty, eerily silent hall, and stopped dead. They exchanged looks, their eyes coming alive for the moment to express their surprise.

-

**A/N:** **I really don't know what's wrong with me. My chapters are usually longer. I seem to be working through a writer's block though, had to force myself to write this chapter. It probably shows. Anyway, how am I doing? When will the Xavier institute appear, you ask? (evaporates while callously laughing). (PS--to TheFuzzyOne1989: Thanks so much for reviewing and taking the time to PM too. I really appreciate it. And that site helped a lot, thank you!)**

_Disclaimer: I own all Original Characters and this plot. My words are my own. _Marvel Comics _owns the rest._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Point  
**_**Get To It  
**__Chapter Three_

Kitty Pride was dancing. She liked dancing. But this time dancing was especially fun because Kurt and Ray were trying to see the television and she wouldn't let them. Twirling, twirling, twirling, Kitty was getting dizzy, but she was laughing. Kurt and Ray were groaning, then whining, then yelling. Yet this only encouraged Kitty and she kicked up her feet to hop around, hands raised above her head as she wiggled allover and laughed.

In the kitchen, Rogue was mulling in front of an open refrigerator. Did she want milk with her peanut butter sandwich? Or juice? With all that noise, how was anyone supposed to _think_ in this infernal place?

Abruptly Logan appeared, unshaved and his hair sticking up allover, complexion ruddy and his expression grim. His white tee shirt and blue jeans were ripped and soaked with musky-smelling sweat, which probably meant he had been in the Danger Room exercising. He headed straight for the living room through the kitchen as if nothing short of murder was on his mind. Rogue watched him go from the corners of her brown eyes and hid her smile. At the same time, she decided on milk. A moment later she heard the expected roar.

"KEEP IT DOWN IN HERE! I CAN HEAR YOU CLEAR ACROSS THE MANSION! IF I HEAR ONE MORE _peep_ OUT OF YOU THREE ALL THAT'S GONNA BE LEFT OF YOU TO FIND IS BLOODY RIBBONS!"

There came the murmur of apologies.

"That's what I —Kitty, move. Quick! Whoever has the remote, turn it up!"

Suddenly the volume on the television turned up. Rogue heard screaming and looked up from pouring her glass of milk. It was a newscast; she could hear the murmur of the broadcaster's voice. She hurried into the living room and watched in stunned silence alongside Logan and Kitty, Kurt and Ray as the horror played out on LIVE TV before them.

"Insects everywhere!" said the announcer, leaning out of the traffic helicopter and her profile filling the camera. Even the woman news anchor couldn't take her full attention from it. Below, through what space the woman left, there was utter chaos. People running, screams echoing to the heavens where the helicopter bobbed and weaved, dodging random bolts of lightning that seemed to come out of nowhere and chasing masses of black clouds that, when zoomed in on, where seen to be for what they were—_hundreds of millions of billions of bugs_. "It's a terrible phenomena—insect researchers everywhere are mystified at what could have brought about this turn of behavior in the usually passive—ahh!" Suddenly the woman newscaster tore off her microphone head-set and began scratching at her long hair, raking her nails over her face. "They're everywhere!" she continued to scream. "Oh-my-god! I—I can't breathe! Jeff, JEFF!" The camera suddenly dropped and the picture went to static, emitting a high-pitched technologic scream. A few seconds later the regular male news anchor appeared at his desk, a shocked look on his face as he watched something off-screen.

Logan snapped out of it first. "Get the team!" he growled and left the room at a dead run.

Meanwhile, Osiris and Isis were in the middle of the chaos. They were handling it, as promised. Sort of. It would have helped their cause if Theseus would hurry up. Osiris pointed to a black mound on the street and it immediately burst into flame. He swung his head around and glared at another black mass, and that too caught fire that was doused quickly by the rain, but not without leaving the black mass charred in its wake. By now his sunglasses were long gone, his red eyes flashing in the firelight. Thunder rolled overhead and Osiris was forced to shade those eyes as an electrical current wrapped around him, creating a barrier of blinding white light. The wave of insects that had organized into another black cloud, readied to attack him, slammed into the barrier and were zapped like moths that had come too close to the neon lamp. Osiris dropped his hand as he felt the electric charge disperse, and sent his sister a thoughtful glance. Their garnet gazes met and she bobbed her head once, a strained smile on her lips. He could see that Isis was sweating, tiring, and Osiris cursed himself for it—she was only a halfie, after all; he should have fed her beforehand. Now she was too weak to keep up with him.

Something stung his arm and, reaching the end of his rope, Osiris shoved his own personal wind forth in a burst of temper. The draft was hot and noticeable, like a gust of humidity, unlike Theseus's would be, Osiris knew. Whatever had stung him melted away. Beneath his feat Osiris felt the soles of his sneakers melding with the tar, and he slipped the Converses off. Maggots crawled out of the ruined shoes, and Osiris would bet that if larvae could scream then these would be. His whole body felt like it was on fire and he relished in that heat, sent it forth in waves. He paid no attention to the people that got in the way of his heat-wave—they were soaked with cold rain, and as the unbearable heat passed over them white steam rose from their skin and what was left of their clothes, but otherwise they kept intact. The bugs, resistant to water unless drinking it, were not so lucky.

"Oz! My hair!"

Still radiating the invisible inferno, Osiris turned to see Theseus standing before him. A sheepish grin came to Theseus's pale lips as he held up two small girls, one by the hair and the other by the collar, one in a dress and the other in tee shirt and jeans, but otherwise identical twins, aged nine. There was pain in his hazel eyes, though. Meanwhile the girls' attention was drawn to Osiris, and the one in the cotton shift screamed hysterically as recognition dawned on her features. She struggled hard, trying to twist away from Theseus, but he held fast her hair. Osiris wondered how long Theseus had been there, for he hadn't heard the girls' screams over the rest of the city's panicked inhabitants.

"What is this?" he demanded, shouting at Theseus if he was to be heard at all. "Is this a joke? You bring me two _little girls_?"

"It's them," said Theseus calmly, while his gaze roamed to study the damage about him. "The one in the dress—she has premonitions. She knew me. The other is controlling these insects."

No sooner had Theseus said it than Osiris appeared in front of the little girls, half-crouched but also kneeling. He came directly eye-level with Ruby Riley.

Ruby, who had never seen something as scary as an angry Osiris in all nine years of her life, forgot to scream in her bewildered terror. Osiris noticed her fright, and took full advantage of it. He put his face very close to the child mutant's, and even as she tried to back away, to press her back to Theseus's thigh because there was no escape, Theseus only tightened his hold on the scruff of her neck so that she wasn't able to move very much without choking herself first. Osiris's red eyes and the girl's young set of brown met and though she wanted to look away, Ruby found she couldn't. A very low, menacing voice burst into Ruby's thoughts; the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, and Ruby couldn't see how it could be coming from anywhere else than her very own thoughts.

"_Do you feel that heat in your head, though the rain is cold? Do you hear the way your sister screams? Your sister knows who I am, doesn't she? She can see the future, sees things before they happen, so she knows I can hurt you. She knows I **will** hurt you if you don't do exactly as I tell you. I am not Theseus—I am not afraid to hurt little girls. Now banish these bugs. Make them go away. Or I'll burn you alive, girl. That heat you feel in your head will consume your body, and you'll feel my fire even as you collapse and the darkness takes you. Now **do as I say!**_"

But Ruby was too afraid to do anything.

Osiris grabbed her forearm and it _burned_. Ruby opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out.

"Oz! OSIRIS! STOP IT! _She's just a child_, _Osiris_!"

He let go and the red eyes flickered up, studying Theseus's pained expression contemptuously. Then the demonic eyes were on her again and Ruby felt herself trembling. She called to the bugs in the only way she knew how—she forced her will upon them. Ruby didn't really know how she did it, but if she thought very hard and long about something, she knew the bugs would follow that thought's direction. They could understand her speech, too, which is why they came to her aide when she screamed. The bugs liked Ruby, unlike her mommy and daddy that hated and were afraid of her. The bugs didn't try to manipulate Ruby the way her sister did. And Ruby liked the bugs.

Eventually, the buzzing began to drain away. Theseus looked around in awe. _The bugs were going away_. What black mounds weren't dead and charred lifted up off the pavement, off of their human prey, and headed skyward. Lightning chased after them, but most of the insects seemed unconcerned about it. Those that were injured, maybe a wing crumpled or most of its legs missing, dropped out of the sky to fall squirming to the pavement and slowly stilled. Soon, the screaming also stopped as people began to realize that the worst of the storm had passed. Those mostly uninjured went to check on those that lay face-down on the sidewalk with dead insects stuffed up their noses and in their mouths. Out of habit, Theseus took stock of the living and the dead. Out of the thousands of businessmen and women that had been up and about before, Theseus surmised that only a little more than half remained alive. It was more carnage than anything that Theseus had ever seen, and Theseus had seen a lot, and not just in numbers of fallen humans—ample heaps of insect-assassins had fallen in the combat as well.

"Is she still _just a child_, Theo? Have you ever seen only a _child_ do something like _this_?"

In denial, Theseus could only shake his head in answer to Osiris. He didn't want to believe it. Children weren't capable of this. She was only _nine_. What could have possessed a _nine-year-old_ to murder so many?

Isis appeared then. She crouched beside her brother, studying the girls from behind reflective black lenses. First she looked over the one in the dress, Gem, and then she looked over the one in jeans, Ruby. Both had fallen totally silent, looking suddenly much younger than they were and more fragile than their actions suggested, especially when compared to the tall and stocky Theseus that held them captive. They stared in quiet suspicion at the dark-haired female, fit teenager, fear in their eyes as they noticed the dead insects tangled in Isis's hair and the tears in her yellow shirt, denim pants. Would this one hurt them like the brown-haired boy had threatened to?

At the same time, Isis noticed the circlet of red surrounding Ruby's right forearm. "Why?" Isis whispered, staring at the burn that would become blistered, callused, and finally a pale scar. "Why would you hurt them? _Kill them_? What have these people ever done to you?"

Abruptly there was the sound of a sonic boom that the trio easily recognized. They looked up simultaneously in time to see the stealth, military-style black jet stop in midair, and quickly lowering itself to earth. If they didn't move, it would land right on top of them.

"Theseus," snapped Osiris. "Stop the rain. Isis, take the girls. If they try to run, zap them."

Theseus and Isis met gazes as she stood, mute understanding transferring between them, then she looked down at the girls and held out her hands. The twin girls observed her hands fearfully. "I won't hurt you," murmured Isis. "We're just going to move out of the way so the jet can land. Come on now, be good girls for me. Don't make Oz mad." Quickly, the girls seized her hands, at the same time visibly bracing themselves. They shut their eyes tight as theirs and Isis's skin touched—then their eyes opened as they realized her flesh was soft, and cool. As Isis lead them away, to the far side of the street and onto the sidewalk, tears slowly began to slide down young Ruby's face.

-

**A/N:** **Ridden in angst, my favorite. Now enter the X-Men. Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying.**

_Disclaimer_: _I own all Original Characters and this plot. My words are my own. _Marvel Comics _owns the rest._

_NOW SHOWING! Bloopers! _:

_(these are just little darkly comical thoughts that went through my head while writing this chapter): _

"Insects everywhere!" said the announcer, leaning out of the traffic helicopter and her profile filling the camera. Even the woman news anchor couldn't take her full attention from it. Below, through what space the woman left, there was utter chaos. People running, screams echoing to the heavens where the helicopter bobbed and weaved, dodging random bolts of lightning that seemed to come out of nowhere and chasing masses of black clouds that, when zoomed in on, where seen to be for what they were—_hundreds of millions of billions of bugs_. "The traffic here is terrible! People are jaywalking at an alarming rate…I've never seen so many pedestrians breaking so many traffic laws at once. Cars are bumper-to-bumper downtown, not moving an inch. In fact drivers and passengers alike are out—ahh!" Suddenly the woman newscaster tore off her microphone head-set and began scratching at her long hair, raking her nails over her face. "They're everywhere!" she continued to scream. "Oh-my-god! I—I can't breathe! Jeff, JEFF!" Suddenly the woman straightened up and looked straight at the camera with a stoical face. A fly was making its journey up her left nostril, but she appeared to take no notice. "I'm Lisa Lyndell with the 6 o'clock traffic report. Back to you, Jeff."

The camera suddenly dropped and the picture went to static, emitting a high-pitched technologic scream. A few seconds later the regular male news anchor appeared at his desk, a shocked look on his face as he watched something off-screen. Finally he turned back to the camera, coughed, put on his grimmest look, and said, "Thank you, Lisa, for that look-ahead on traffic. Now onto sports with Terry Hoop. Terry?"

-


	4. Chapter 4

**The Point  
**_**Get to It  
**__Chapter Four_

Orroro was first out of the jet, soaring high overhead to inspect the clouds that were already clearing. She couldn't figure it out. Where had such a downpour come from when this week's forecast was full of sun? How was it going away already, as if it had come and gone with the attacking insects? Next came Logan, but he dropped right to the pavement below and stood, surveying the scene grimly. Once the jet touched down then out came the kids. Finally, last but not least, came Professor Xavier.

"_Logan_," Wolverine heard the professor in his head only. "_What stock have you taken of the situation?_"

"Some people dead," said Logan. "Most still alive. The bugs are already gone. Somebody must've known we were on our way." He looked suspiciously at the kids. Could one of them be a Judas? A traitor? How else could someone have known the X-Men were on their way?

"Professor," said Scott. He had walked over to a pile of black and now knelt over it, inspecting it closely through his red-tinted visor. "These bugs… I think it's remnants of bugs… They've been—incinerated."

"In that rain?" said Logan, strolling over and kneeling beside the younger man. "I'll be damned," he muttered, for the Xyclops was right. All the Wolverine's senses but sight knew those were remnants of bugs, but sight told him that, indeed, these insects had been cremated during the attack. Yet he smelt no sulfur. It was as though they had spontaneously combusted. Logan stooped to press his fingers to the mess, and immediately as he touched the tar an electric charge went through him. These insects had combusted, but not spontaneously. "Electricity," he whispered. "Now where did that come from?"

"What?" said Scott.

"Professor! There's more over here!"

"And here!"

"I think there's more over here!"

Wolverine checked each place the kids pointed out and, sure enough, these bugs had also exploded as if of their own accord. He felt static everywhere he touched. The hairs on the back of Logan's neck stuck up on end and all of his instincts were on high alert. This had been done by a mutant, and been taken care of by another mutant. Were these rogue mutants dangerous to the X-Men? Could they still be around? How would he be able to tell if they were coming?

"Head's up!" yelled Robert. "We found some unconscious kids over here!"

"They're, like, totally untouched!" called Kitty.

"There's a note on one of 'em. It's addressed to Xavier—uh, the Professor!"

Storm, Wildebeast, the Professor, and Wolverine exchanged looks. The four teachers then headed over to where Kitty and Robert were inspecting the two youths. The other kids had been told to search for survivors, help those in the most need however they could; help anyone that would accept a mutant's help. The unconscious little girls were both at least nine years old, one in a pink cotton shift and the other in a pink tee shirt and blue jeans. One in pigtails, the other with her mousy hair worn loose. They were clearly twins, evidently untouched—except for a ring of red, like a burn mark, that went around the one in jeans' right forearm. Storm bent to inspect the burn while Robert handed Xavier a note written on a sheet of cardboard, the ink apparently blood. Yet the handwriting was neat, small and clearly printed, as if written with a ballpoint pen. Whoever had written it must have had a thin but sturdy wire for their bloody handwriting to be this tidy.

"What's it say?" asked Wildebeast.

"It says," said Xavier, "'Ask them. Happy Hunting. Signed, Gods of the Underworld.'"

"Gods of the Underworld," spat Wolverine. "Cocky sonofa—"

"This burn looks as if it was inflicted by steam," interrupted Storm, studying the children. "There's nothing else wrong with them. It looks as if the insects left these two alone. They… appear to be the only two so fortunate. I sense plasma in the air—that's how they must have been knocked-out. There is a mutant out there that may manipulate the weather, or simply electricity. The coincidence of an unexpected downpour in the middle of a clear-skied sunny afternoon makes me uncertain."

"Thank you, Orroro," said Xavier. He studied the children from his wheelchair. "Stay with them, please," he addressed Storm. "When they wake up, ask them what happened. If they do not answer you, send them to Jean or me."

"Yes, Professor."

Xavier moved away. As he went, John and Logan moved with him. "The children are mutants," he told both men.

"You don't say…" muttered Logan.

Ignoring him, the professor continued, "But I don't believe either could be capable of this destruction. This _massacre_. We must find the parents of the girls and get permission to interrogate them. They must have seen who used the plasma bolts to knock them out."

Hesitantly, John McCoy said, "Xavier, the blood on that card…" He paused, then pressed on very slowly, very carefully, "It—isn't—human, I'm afraid. It smelt… wrong. I can't seem to quite put my finger on what's different about it though." He slid a glance at Wolverine, who sensed it and shot John a glare, but by then the good doctor had already moved his attention elsewhere.

"What do you mean, John?"

Wildebeast shrugged but looked at Xavier. "I'm not sure," he said. "But if I could do some tests on the blood on that card, I could probably figure it out. It might be nothing…"

"But you don't think so," finished Xavier. "Very well." He handed over the thin cardboard sheet.

The hairs on the back of Logan's neck suddenly bristled and he looked up.

Theseus pulled his head back from the edge quick. Osiris struck him absently. Rubbing the back of his head, Theseus sent his friend an incensed look. "Ouch," he said. "What was that for? I just wanted a peek of 'em. Those guys are virtually famous."

"You didn't even feel it," muttered Isis, her chin resting on her arms as she studied the horizon. She sat turned away from either strong young men. Her stomach was growling, but she ignored it in favor of the view of the setting sun.

"Why do you two always gang up on me? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I'm not siding with anyone," said Isis. At the same time, Oz was saying, "Because you're an idiot." Then the twins said simultaneously, "And don't be so loud. They'll hear you." They sent one another a glance over their shoulders.

Sullen, Theseus started to peek over the side of the skyscraper's roof once again.

"Next time I'm just gonna push you off."

"_Oz_," Theseus whined, nevertheless scooting away from the edge. "I just wanna see what they're doing."

"Curiosity killed the cat," muttered Isis.

"Satisfaction brought it back," Theseus replied, sending her back a smile.

"Not if I get my hands on it first," growled Osiris.

The three were silent a while.

Finally, bored of the silence, Theseus spoke again, "How long do you suppose we have to wait up here 'til they leave? I mean, people down there don't even like mutants. They don't want their help. Did you notice that the survivors, those up and moving about already, seemed to shy away from the mutants' aircraft? The people didn't rush up to be rescued by it. They would rather wallow in this sudden hell than be offered a helping hand by those who are not like them." Theseus pulled up his knees and set his chin on his forearms, mirroring Isis's pose as he looked out at the darkening sky. If he sharpened his sight, he could just see clouds of insects dispersing in segments. Like human troops returning from war, the insects left in groups to the area that had been their homes. Some wouldn't be returning home. Same goes for the humans. "Do you think it'll always be like this? The mutants and… and the rest?" By now Theseus was just talking to hear the sound of his own voice. Quietly, mostly to himself, he added, "Do you think we'll ever find a place among either side?"

He was answered by a moment of silence.

"Can I push him?" said Isis.

"I already called dibs," replied Osiris.

Theseus smiled sadly.

-

**A/N:** **Is anyone else in love with Osiris? Yes, I suppose Theseus is sweet and somewhat sexier… but Osiris has that cruel streak. I love cruel streaks, which I guess explains my obsession with Pietro. Speaking of who, I believe he's going to be in the next chapter. Or was it the chapter after that? Guess you'll have to read to find out. (grins).**

**(Also, thanks to Paksennarion and TheFuzzyOne1989 for reviewing. Your encouragement really helps. I wasn't going to continue this past the first chapter, but your support really made the difference. Thank you.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Point**

_**Get to It**_

_Chapter Five_

Pietro Maximoff was going to throw up.

He watched on the news as the video clip replayed, and replayed, and replayed. It was on every channel with story titles like "_Insectopia_" and "_When Bugs Attack_" and "_Insect Invasion!_" Presently, the aftermath was being shown. Ambulances everywhere; people in paramedic uniforms crouched over motionless victims, trying to resuscitate them; black body-bags lining the streets and slowly being moved by big men into blue and gray caravans. Even sitting on the couch here at the Brotherhood House, Pietro could practically _smell_ the carnage—but then, maybe that was just the Brotherhood House by itself.

And then a news anchor was on the screen, sitting behind his desk and talking with a insect-specialist. The scientist didn't know what was going on, why the bugs had attacked the city of Mulder all of a sudden. They talked a lot about possibilities in the government having to do with some new weapon of mass destruction ("there could have been a major technical malfunction at a medical research center nearby, probably experimenting in nerve-gases that were somehow released into the air at the start of this hypothetical calamity, which affected the bugs in such a way…" etc.). But mainly the scientist and news reporter focused on the possibilities of _mutants_ being involved. It was said kids from Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters had allegedly been on the scene at the time of the attack, and since everybody knew about the X-Men these days (because of Mystique's big failure of a conspiracy, Pietro thought), then of course _all_ mutants must have something to do with the recent psychotic behavior in the local insect population.

Honestly, though, Pietro wasn't sure what made him sicker. The actual carnage of the insects attacking? The fact that this reporter and scientist were so stupid/prejudice? Or the secret knowledge that Pietro's own father had somehow arranged for all of this to happen; and that, however stupid and prejudice the reporter and scientist were, they were right about one thing—mutants had _everything_ to do with the recent psychotic behavior in local insects.

Today had started out so well, too, Pietro thought now. He hadn't awoken to any new conspiracy/failure/drama/the-toad's-awful-stench this morning. No one had spit on, kicked, punched, or pulled a prank on the speed demon lately. Nobody had yet threatened Pietro's life, not even Wanda, who had fallen into the habit of avoiding the Brotherhood House whenever possible because Todd had fallen into the habit of following her around, shooting her back with plenty of suggestions that any lawyer could easily put him away with on sexual harassment charges, even a bad lawyer. And, maybe best of all, Lance was in more of a miserable mood than usual, moping about like the world was coming to an end (again) and he had been left out of the plot. Pietro had even gotten to eat three balanced meals today; a true rarity.

Holding his stomach as he stood, Pietro dropped the remote and headed for the door. He needed to get out, to walk, to escape the secret knowledge that Magneto had done this. _His own father!_ All those people dead! True, Pietro didn't have much sympathy for them; regular humans had never shown Pietro, a mutant, anymore respect or love than he felt for them.

But _so many dead_, and not all of them fully grown! Some of them were _kids_!

Pictures of black plastic body bags flashed through Pietro's mind in all sizes, but mostly small ones. Small ones, just the size for a regular human child. And with those pictures in mind, Pietro suddenly thought of the day his sister had been taken away. The way she screamed and cried, and reached for him. Pietro didn't feel guilty about that, not exactly—Wanda's powers had been so out of control, so out of their father's control, and their father was already so powerful, there was no other way to take care of her; she was hurting herself as much as she hurt others. But then Pietro paired that memory with the other pictures, of the small body bags, of children running and screaming under siege of millions of billions of insects—and Pietro stood by, watching in quiet disgust and horror as they ran, as they screamed and cried—and as they fell, they reached for him, but Pietro stood with his father and couldn't go to them, because to go to them would be to betray his father, and Pietro just couldn't do that. Not exactly.

Suddenly he stopped walking and dropped onto a park bench, not realizing how far from the Brotherhood House he had traveled. Pietro took in a deep breath, then dropped his head into his hands, his elbows on his knees, closed his eyes, and let the breath out slow and miserably. Nausea resurfaced and Pietro dwelled on it a while. He gagged once, but that was all that came and went. For what might have been a long time (time always seemed to fly for him), Pietro simply sat and breathed, and thought about how much his stomach hurt as he tried not to think about the falling children that reached for him, that he couldn't go to.

Finally Pietro lifted his head. Realizing something, he looked about.

There was silence. Terrible, _complete_ silence. It was well since dark out, nearly one o'clock in the morning. Only the crickets chirped, and the sound sent a chill down the speed demon's spine. Loneliness descended like a plague. Alone out here with the crickets, Pietro thought now, like he was the last man on earth. Pietro thought he could smell the people's fear on the air; fear of the outdoors, of the unknown. Their world had changed dramatically again today and they still didn't know quite how to react. Treat tomorrow like every other day? Or panic, become phobic and stay inside the house with a can of Raid at the ready? Or should they simply slit their wrists because the world was indeed coming to an end this time? Maybe there would be another insect-attack tomorrow, or the next day; maybe this was it, the worst of the storm had passed.

Pietro stopped thinking altogether when, out of the blue, he heard voices.

A feminine voice said, "Is anyone else cold?"

"No," said a deep male voice.

A slightly lighter male voice added, "But then, me and Oz are pureblooded." After a second, it continued, "I'd give you my shirt, Ice, but since the moths have feasted on it, I'm not sure it would offer much warmth."

"That's okay, Theo," murmured the female. Ice? A couple seconds later, her voice came again. "Is anyone else tired?"

"No," said the deep male voice. Oz?

The lighter male voice, Theo, "It _has_ been six hours, Oz. Maybe we should stop for a while? Isis hasn't eaten, and she's cold. She has powers like ours, but she's still human. If she doesn't get enough sleep, she'll just slow us down tomorrow. And after everything today, using our powers to hold off those bugs—it's sort of miraculous she's still walking, let alone breathing."

"Way to make a girl feel like the hero she is, Theseus. Thanks. If I had the energy, the feminist in me would slap you right about now."

The deep male voice, sounding vaguely annoyed, "Fine. We'll rest for three hours. Isis, go lay down somewhere. Sleep. Theseus, go with her."

"What about you, Osiris? You've got a lot of pride, but the little speck of human in you has got to be pushing his luck, pushing himself like this…"

"Didn't I tell you to go lie down and sleep? I'm going to—"

"'_Search and secure the area. Find food, locate a source of drinkable water, and keep an eye to the shadows and an ear to the skies.'_ All right, brother. I'm sorry I asked." Pietro suddenly became aware of approaching footsteps. The female voice continued, "Man. Sometimes I wonder if Oz really ever left the facility. He can be such a—"

Abruptly there was silence. Pietro stared hard into the darkness, in the direction of the voices. All the lamps in the park had been broken the previous week by a gang of kids that thought they were cool, badass shit, and hadn't been replaced yet (if ever). But Pietro's eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, and he was sure he saw two very solid figures not a full forty yards away, and maybe, hazily, a third further back and already moving away. He wondered how the two moving toward him had already seen him. He was virtually lying down on the bench, and the shadows were deeper here because of the grove of oak trees hovering near, and it was hard enough to see them from so far away and in this pitch-black night.

And then a voice said from directly behind him, "_Mutant_."

The deep voice. Oz—Osiris. Whoever these kids were.

Pietro spun around and stared into a set of very red eyes, very _inhuman_ red eyes. Before he realized his doing, Pietro had stood and stumbled away from the menacing young man. Even in this dark, the red eyes seemed to glow with an angry light—like warning lights. Pietro had seen people with red eyes before. They hadn't been human either—at least, not anymore; not after Magneto was through brainwashing them. A guttural sound emitted from Pietro's throat as he tried to find his voice, tried to remember how to speak.

Meanwhile, the broad-shouldered youth advanced around the park bench. He was short, and because of his muscular build the best word Pietro thought described him was _stout_. After a moment, Pietro realized this kid couldn't be much older than himself; maybe even younger. It took him a moment for him to realize this because of the mature, menacing look the boy wore; his face did not resemble one that indulged its youth; as if this kid never smiled or had a happy thought in his entire teenaged life. His hair was black, his tan face flat, the red eyes squinted and close-together—this one was definitely Asian. His clothes were cheap and out of style, but, more than that, they were ragged. Holes bigger than Pietro's hands ruined the murky-colored tee shirt that seemed too small, leaving exposed the heavily muscled torso and his strong arms, and the dark denim jeans weren't in much better shape, leaving _other things_, some inappropriate things, just a tad naked. Pietro noticed the kid walked with a swagger.

As Osiris advanced, he surveyed the silver-haired mutant that wasn't much older than himself—that was, if Osiris had a specific age, which he didn't. All of his senses went on red alert. An angry white light flashed behind his eyes, giving his vision a grainy, sonar-like quality; like the way bats see things, but with color. And bright color at that; it could have been daylight, the way Osiris was seeing things. The mutant-boy's maroon sweater, tan slacks, white running-shoes—the whites of his very blue eyes, the flush of pink to his very pale face, and especially the white hair. Osiris saw all of this and more, able to detect the smallest stitch out of place in the clothing, or the tiniest, clogged pore on the boy's ivory face.

"Mutant," spat Osiris again.

Pietro tripped and fell back, only to be caught midway on his descent toward the ground. He looked up at the taller, much stronger-appearing, blond-haired boy. This one definitely had a couple years over Pietro and his red-eyed companion. Pietro was caught a little off-guard by the dissimilarity between this guy and the red-eyed boy. The first thing he noticed was the piercings: three in each ear in varying studs and styles; one in the lower lip; a glint of something in the right nostril. This one had neatly dreadlocked blond hair, almost as white-blond as Pietro's own; his face was elongated and sharp-boned, and this guy's eyes were… well, in the dark it was a harder to tell, but Pietro was sure these eyes weren't just blue, nor entirely green, and were those rings of red or brown nearest the pupil? And instead of the yellow- brown skin of an Asian, this one's complexion was lightly beige, as if he saw the sun a lot and enjoyed basking in its rays often. The easiest way Pietro thought to describe him was _German_. His shirt was long-sleeved and light blue, and dirty, and though the holes in it were much less severe than his stout companion's, it still looked as if this guy had stripped the shirt off the nearest hobo. He had the sleeves rolled back, revealing very firm forearms, and the front was all the way unbuttoned. The black slacks looked mostly intact, mostly untouched; perhaps even new.

"Watch your step," said the cheerful Theseus. Yet the white lights were going behind his eyes, too.

Opening and closing his mouth, Pietro felt suddenly very, _very_ scared. More than that, because the fear went deeper than that, but Pietro didn't know a word that could describe this newfound, deep-rooted fear that the sight of these two strangers up-close inspired. _Terror_, maybe. What was strangest of all, however, was that he didn't even know where the fear came from or why he was afraid. He could outrun any danger, especially if it was human. So what did he have to be afraid of? Pietro had dealt with scarier things than a couple of teenage thugs that thought themselves mean. Pietro had proven himself to be much meaner.

Still, the secret knowledge didn't calm the ball of terror that bounced around his interior like a rabbit with its foot caught in a trap.

He couldn't speak, could scarcely even _breathe_ while the German's hands gripped him.

"Stop it," said a third voice, feminine this time. And then a girl was there with an Asian face so alike the first boy's that Pietro knew instinctively they had to be related, if not identical twins. She materialized out of the darkness, an aura of light surrounding her entire being, and yet the light seemed to come from within, as if its source coursed through her very veins. Her hair was black, glittering with electric blue highlights because of the light her body seemed to be generating; but it was impossible to tell the color or shape of her eyes, as dark-tinted sunglasses veiled them, despite the night. She was slender, and yet exactly the same height as the Asian boy. Pietro couldn't tell her age, but sensed that she was young; maybe his age, maybe younger. Her head swiveled left, the sunglasses reflecting the red-eyed boy, and then turned to the right, reflecting Pietro himself, and yet seemed to be focusing on the German guy. "Both of you."

Suddenly, the bouncing ball of terror within Pietro disappeared.

"Spoil-sport," commented Theseus, and when Pietro chanced a glance up at him, saw that he was smiling. Catching the glance, Theseus's multicolored eyes turned down; and Pietro saw clearly that the smile didn't reach those eyes. "Hi there," said Theseus.

"Let him go, Theo," commanded Isis.

The thick-fingered hands removed from Pietro's narrow shoulders and the German showed his open palms to the girl. Pietro looked at her, wondering if she was their authority figure, but somehow couldn't picture it. The German guy was too big; the stout Asian boy too menacing. Even the surrendering gesture seemed mocking.

Pietro noticed her attire then—in need of repair as badly as the Asian boy's—and quickly found he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Keep looking at our Isis like that," commented Theseus happily, "and I'll be forced to rip your eyes right out of their sockets."

It was easier to look away after that. He turned quickly, which for the speed demon was too fast for the eye to follow, and put his back to the only open space the trio had left for him. The four of them now stood in a complete square. The trio exchanged cryptic looks, two sets of gazes amused and the third simply expressionless, and yet a message seemed to have transferred between them. Then they looked at Pietro. He snapped, "Who are you people? Wait—I take that back. _What_ are you guys?"

Two sets of gazes turned to the Asian boy.

Osiris coolly surveyed the mutant. "None of your business," he stated.

"Oh really?" Pietro shot back, squaring his shoulders and jutting his chin. "Well that's a nice way of telling me. Go to all the trouble of coming over here to scare the _shit_ out of me, and then all you have to say for yourselves is 'None of your business.'"

If Osiris had been the type of person to shrug, he would have then.

Theseus commented, "If we told you the truth, we'd have to kill you." He grinned when Pietro looked at him. "No, I'm not just being over-protective this time. We would _really_ have to kill you. Which seems a shame seeing as we don't even know you. Speaking of which, I'm Theseus. Theo." He extended a hand in a friendly greeting gesture, continuing while Pietro eyed it warily, "Sorry for scaring you like that. You surprised us, slipping under our radar like that for as long as you did. Usually one of us senses a mutant at least a mile away; and here you were, barley forty yards." The hand hung in the air a moment longer before Theseus seemed to realize Pietro wasn't going to take it, and lowered it. Yet the obvious rejection didn't appear to phase him. Theseus went on, "To answer your question to the best of my ability without being obligated to kill you, I guess you could say we're mutants. That's why Isis here," he glanced at the girl that didn't react to the vague introduction, "glows the way she does. She can manipulate airwaves, which, after a complicated explanation, gives her the ability to naturally generate electricity. Negative and positive charges of air currents and all that—Ice would probably know more about the facts that Oz or me." His gaze switched to the Asian. "That's Osiris," said Theseus. Finally his multicolored eyes turned to Pietro, and this time the smile reached them. "And lastly, to answer the question you're about to ask—we can sense you're a mutant because it's part of our… uh, _genetics_ is as best as I can explain it."

Pietro remembered hearing the girl and the German discussing something about a 'facility.' He remembered a number of facilities he had visited time and again with his father over the years, remembered the misshapen creatures with doctored genetics Magneto kept in cages that were always too small. He wondered if they had been discussing a facility like that; and maybe if they were creatures like that, only an advanced version.

"Now, if you don't mind my asking," continued Theseus. "Who're you?"

-


End file.
